


When Free Men Smile

by ClassiqueMystique



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Agron loves Nasir very much, Damn those Romans, Epilogue added, Fugitives, M/M, Mpreg, Not really based on any episode, OTP Feels, Possible sequel....maybe, The future is Undecided, This is what happens when my imagination runs wild, Two Shot, labor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassiqueMystique/pseuds/ClassiqueMystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the run and headed to Vesuvius to reunite with Spartacus and the others, Agron and Nasir are forced to stop when the "expectedly UN-expected" happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They ran through the woods for many days under the cover of darkness.  The bigger man would hold his smaller counterpart close, doing his best to keep him safe and protected. They stopped only for brief moments at a time, refusing to stay idle in any one spot.  But as the weary days blended into unbearable nights, they found their urge for lasting shelter grow stronger and stronger. However, it was nearly impossible for them to actually stop as the Romans closely followed their trail, probably a day or two behind them at most. They were being hunted as _fugitivus_ because they _chose_ to stand against the bastard fucks of Rome and fight for their freedom. They _chose_ to make lives for themselves instead of living the ones dictated to them as if they were nothing but common animals.

They **chose** to stand with Spartacus.

And as their penance, they had to suffer a life filled with constant movement and never ending trepidation.  Still the two men could not find it within themselves to complain. They knew that joy would soon fill their hearts, if only for a short while should the Romans decidedly interfere.

“I have to stop,” groaned the smaller man as he sank to his knees on the cold forest ground.

The taller man attempted to pull his lover to his feet but the latter refused to budge, looking up to plead at him with exhausted eyes. “We cannot give pause to rest my love. We must venture further to the docks where we will find safe passage to Pompeii.”

His slight lover shook his head, lengthy black curls falling onto his face. “Agron please. I **must** rest.” The urgency in his voice did not go unnoticed by the German gladiator. He stroked his beloved’s cheek, whispering to him that he would scout ahead in search of a place to make camp. 

With swift legs Agron ran ahead, keeping his eyes peeled for any hidden threat. He was able to breathe a small sigh of relief when he found none, and an even bigger one when he noticed two structures up ahead. One was bigger than the other was, with a faint glow of light coming from within. The other was a good distance away, most likely being a place to store grain and supplies for harvest and farming. It was also the one least likely to be inhabited at the present time.

Agron ran back with news on eager tongue. “Nasir, I have found a small shack where we may rest for a few candle marks.”

Nasir tiredly nodded his head. “That is good news indeed, for I fear that the time has come,” he revealed. Agron’s eyes took in Nasir’s sweat-laden brow, flushed cheeks and shallow breaths. He nodded his head with newfound resolve.

“Then we should make haste.”

Nasir sobbed. “My legs cannot carry me the distance. Apologies for undesired weakness.”

Agron wrapped an arm around the Syrian’s waist, hooking a muscled arm underneath his lover’s legs to swoop him up. “My beloved makes apologies to no man, and especially not to me,” he whispered with a kiss upon damp brow.

With stealth the German carried them both to the small shack, slipping inside effortlessly. He set Nasir upon a thick pile of hay and then secured that the door was closed against unwanted entry.   

“Agron,” the smaller man whimpered, reaching with outstretched hands towards the gladiator. In an instant, he was by his side, smoothing back the loose black tresses. His other hand drifted downwards, cradling the protruding midsection that housed their unborn child. He could feel the child move from within, settling himself so that he could make passage from womb.

“This birth comes much too soon,” said Nasir.

That made Agron smile. “Further proving that this child is from our parentage. Since when have you and I completed anything on time?”

Nasir returned his beloved’s smile. “Never.  But we expected to give birth after we reached Pompeii, not sooner. This will change everything now. I will not be able to move as fast during our day’s journeys, and if the Romans were to come upon us then they would easily detect the sound of a baby’s cries. We separated from Spartacus in fear that we would encounter too much danger with myself in present condition.  We gave word that we would rejoin them in time. We might not make good on our word Agron,” came the frantic response.

The German shushed his lover and placed a kiss upon dry, chapped lips. “Calm yourself Nasir. We have survived in the past and so shall we in the future. All three of us. We will survive this and as soon as you and the baby are well enough, then we will continue to our destination where Spartacus and the other’s await our arrival.” He moved around so that he came to kneel between the Syrian’s bent legs. With skilled touch he raised up the thin robes that shielded him from the sight of Nasir’s body. “Now lay back and spread your wide legs so that I may inspect your opening and make judgment on your progress.”

The boy did as he was told, exposing himself with no hesitation. Agron rubbed his thighs in gratitude and leaned in close, his mind giving thought to the sight before him.  Nasir’s body was a rarity in Ancient Rome. He possessed both genders in equal fashion: a lovely, full-sized cock that rested above a fully-functioning cunt.  Many would kill to possess a lover with such a form, a fact that presented much shyness and apprehension on Nasir’s part when Agron attempted to court him. The Syrian always spurned his advances when back in the ludus and Agron could never fully understand why. It was only after one fated night filled with wine and celebration in recognition for the victories earned in the Arena that Agron was able to uncover the truth. He cornered the boy in a vacant corridor and nearly begged with wet eyes for an explanation.

“ _I must spurn all advances per request of my Domina. She wishes to preserve my rarity lest the gods become angered,”_ he had spoken calmly.  When Agron further inquired, Nasir had calmly responded: _“Because I share what you have, and more. The gods bless me with both genders.”_

The news obviously astounded the German, as he did not expect such a response as that from the smaller man. But Agron found that that bit of information did nothing to quell his desires. With persistence and charm, he would have the boy that night and nearly every night since. He revealed to Nasir how he had loved him since his eyes had laid claim to him after his arrival to the ludus from lands east of the Rhine. He revealed how he longed to speak to the boy for many moons, praying to the gods that he would be granted the chance. And he spoke of how he was finally given that chance at long last.

So Nasir relented to his affections, holding no regard for his Domina’s orders.

He spread his legs for the German gladiator that night, a deed that greatly pleased Agron. With smile upon face he slipped into Nasir’s dripping cunt, moaning as the tight wet heat grasped his cock without surrender. The Syrian grimaced in pain for only a moment or two before the pain gave way to pleasure as the gladiator’s cock found his pleasure spot and never failed to hit it since. Seeing his hard cock disappear into Nasir’s body while the Syrian’s own straining cock slapped against his belly made Agron’s balls tighten. The boy’s cunt felt so heavenly that Agron lost all control, pounding the tight hole relentlessly until he spent himself inside of him, filling that delicious hole to the brim with his creamy white seed.

Remembering their first encounter and the fact that it led to this moment months later made Agron grin in excitement. Thanks to his beautiful soul mate, he was going to be a father—something that he believed he never would be. He felt the need to pay homage for this gift. He stared at the exposed cunt in front of him that was pink and pulsating with every spasm. It was because Nasir possessed that, that he could bring forth child and heir. So Agron leaned forth and kissed the quivering flesh, bringing middle finger to mouth when he pulled back.  He coated the finger, getting it wet enough for his intentions. “Nasir I have to insert a finger to test distance of the baby’s head. Keep calm and still,” he said. With carefulness the German did as he warned, somewhat surprised to feel the baby’s crown half way before his glistening finger slipped in to the knuckle.

He quickly removed his hand and moved round so that he sat with Nasir’s back pressed to his chest. “You are ready my love. Push when you feel the next urge.”

And Nasir did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know many of you wish for this story to be longer and I must thank you all for liking my story that much! At this time I only had ideas in mind for the 2 chapters unfortunately. I am confident though that I might come up with something in the future, and when I do, I will certainly add more. :D

For the next candlemark Nasir strained and pushed. The baby was slow moving, and the boy was near giving up. “I cannot do this,” he cried. Agron knew he was fatigued  and losing the will to continue.

He placed a kiss on Nasir’s temple. “Yes you can. You are strong—within you is a fire that cannot be extinguished.  Fill lungs with much needed air and calm yourself. I have nothing but strongest confidence that you will see our child into this world.

Nasir did as instructed and leaned his head back against Agron’s chest. “What would I do if I did not have you by my side?”

Agron chuckled. “It is because of me dear one that you are in this situation to begin with. If I had let you be—.”

Nasir cut him off with words mixed with a cry of pain due to a sudden contraction. “If you had let me be then I would still be a pitiful slave of Rome serving Lucretia as her body slave. I would not be here in your arms right now giving birth to your child as a freed man.”  He took a deep breath and pushed down, holding it out for a few seconds before he relaxed momentarily. “I see no reason for us to dwell in what _could have_ been when I am quite content with my present situation, and all of our fun activities that led up to the conception of our child.”

Agron hummed. “We did have fun, did we not?” They laughed together as memories of their nights in the ludus came to mind. “Do you remember when I took you on Lucretia and the Dominus’ bed when they were away on leave to Rome?”

“Yes I remember, and quite fondly so. You made me dress up like a Roman whore and then fucked me so rough that I feared I would never walk again.”

Agron laughed out loud. “Let no one say that my cock was not meant for your cunt and ass. If I could slip inside you right now I would do so without hesitation.”

“Let your child make exit first.”

“If we must,” Agron replied in jest.

Nasir hummed. “Recite the details of our lovemaking that night to me Agron. I would see pain give way to brief distraction.”

Agron nodded and placed a kiss to Nasir’s cheek. “It was the only time that I ever asked Asher for a favor—the fucking swine that he is. I gave him half of my winnings from the arena to assure that the guards would take temporary leave of the villa. At least he was capable of doing that. He bought us an hour’s worth of time; just enough to ensure my plans would succeed before Batiatus returned home that night.” Agron paused his tale during one of Nasir’s contractions and only resumed when his lover told him to do so. “You are so beautiful Nasir,  and I knew you would be even more so when dressed in Roman garbs. Do you remember how I stripped naked and stroked my cock while I watched you don Lucretia’s dress and jewelry? That night we were not slaves but Romans, and I wanted us to fuck like such. Your cunt felt so tight and wet around my cock as I pounded you on top of their bed. The bitch’s red dress was hiked up around your waist with your legs spread impossibly wide. You took every inch of my cock inside of you.”

Nasir moaned but Agron knew it was one of pain and not pleasure. “I remember ramming into you one last time before I spilled my seed and literally filled you with so much of it that it ran down your thighs and continued to seep out even as time passed. It was the feeling of my cock filling you that you reached your peak as well. But I did not want you to spend just anywhere so I made sure your cum landed in the Dominus’ glass and watched in satisfaction as it mixed in with the wine.”

 

“I wonder if he ever drank from that cup,” said Nasir.

“Knowing him he probably did and savored the taste,” Agron snickered.  “Any red blooded man would savor your nectar and crave for more.”

Nasir was about to reply when he suddenly screamed out but forced himself to bite his tongue. They did not know if the person or people who lived in the house next to them would be friend or foe to them. They needed to remain as quiet as possible. When they did not hear approaching footsteps Agron sighed in relief. But Nasir did not. He squeezed Agron’s hand.

“The baby is coming. I felt it slip lower. You must be there to catch it Agron,” Nasir cried.

Agron complied and moved between Nasir’s legs. He clapped in delight at what he saw. “Nasir you are nearly there. The head has passed thorough. Now all that remains is the shoulders and then the baby will slip free. All we need is one last push. Can you do that for me my love? Just one more push,” pleaded the German.

Nasir nodded his head and pushed down, his eyes scrunched close and his breath held. He was giving it everything that he had. He was beyond exhausted and his body cried out for sleep so he knew that he had to force everything that he could muster into this push. He kept going strong for nearly two minutes but he did not receive confirmation from Agron as to whether the baby was moving freely or not. Nasir was about to give up when at long last he felt the pressure die down as baby slipped from him and into Agron’s arms, wailing all the while. The German bustled about in delight, hurriedly cutting the cord with his ankle dagger and wrapping the baby in his cloak. He cooed at the baby to lesson it’s cries.

“What do we have,” asked Nasir tiredly. He was seconds away from slipping into unconsciousness.

Agron brought the baby forward so that his lover could set drooping eyes upon it. “Tis a son. You have blessed me with a son,” he proclaimed.

The Syrian gave a faint smile. “So I have.”

The pair was so wrapped up in the event that they did not hear the door to the shack open. “By the gods,” someone exclaimed. Startled, Agron looked up, his immediate reaction to lift his sword for battle and protect Nasir. But with his son in his arms he could not do either if the intruder wished them dead.

But he doubted that to be the case when the intruder turned out to be an older Roman woman of simple dress and a non-menacing demeanor. “Please, we mean you no harm. My lover and I only sought a place for temporary shelter. We will leave at daybreak in peace with no trace of ever having been here,” said Agron slowly.

“You do not appear to be Roman,” she said quietly.

“We are not. We are merely travelers passing through,” said Nasir weakly. The woman looked passed Agron to the Syrian boy on the ground. “No strangers pass through these parts—not so far from the main road.” She spied the mark on Agron’s forearm, her eyes widening a bit. “You are one of the gladiator’s that escaped—you belong to Spartacus and his group?”

Agron slowly nodded. “Yes, but I can assure you that we mean no harm. My lover has just given birth to our son. Please keep our whereabouts hidden. No one must know that we are here. I beg of you.”

The woman stared at the German for a few long seconds before she sighed and closed the door. “Calm yourself. I have no intentions upon mind of attracting attention to my lands. I may be of the republic but I take no weight in its backwards state of politics. I like to live out here in peace and in solitude. I only sought to discover the origin of loud screams that tore slumbering mind from pleasant dreams of recently departed husband.”

Agron blew out the breath he realized not that he was holding. “Gratitude. We shall remove ourselves from sight in a few hours.”

The woman frowned. “You shall do no such thing until that boy recovers from birthing a baby. And a healthy sized one at that. No, you two shall remain here until I deem you fit to leave. I will tend to both your lover and your son and see them well enough for travel.”

Agron shook his head. “Your services are appreciated, but not required.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “It was my job many years passed in Rome to welcome babies into this world. I can inform you right now that neither your lover nor your child will survive unless you have my help. Now remain where you are and I will bring supplies and food to you shortly,” she said with a stern voice. She left no room for argument as she strode from the shack with purpose.

“She seems friendly enough,” said Nasir with his eyes closed.

“But can she be trusted?” replied Agron. He did not come this far only to lose his life or the lives of his loved ones in this manner.

“I doubt the gods would grant us the blessing of a life together with child to bless our union, only to have it taken away so suddenly and unjust.”

Agron nodded and used his free hand to caress the side of the Syrian’s face since the baby, in that time, had quieted down. “Perhaps. But I will not lower my guard lest the gods lower theirs and reveal traitorous faces.”

Nasir hummed and groaned as he adjusted his position on the floor. “I would expect nothing less,” he said with a pause. “What will you name your son? Should we bestow upon him the name of your fallen brother?”

Agron thought about it for a second before he replied. “No. Let the memory of Duro begin and end with his legacy. We have a new one to begin.” Agron lent an arm to Nasir as he made to sit up and then placed their son in his arms. “I was wondering if we could name him Kuno,” said Agron nervously.

Nasir smiled. “Kuno. I like that name. What does it mean?”

“It is an old word from the lands East of the Rhine that means clan…family.”

 The Syrian grinned and kissed the baby’s forehead. “The gods themselves could not have blessed him with a better name, for that is what we are now—a family,” he said.

And just then, as if he could understand what they spoke of, Kuno smiled.

 

TBC...


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot I had written this. Didn't want it to gather virtual dust on my laptop. I labeled it as the epilogue, but it can also be listed as an optional ending to segue into further chapters. IDK...I haven't decided what I will do with this fic or IF I will do anything more with it. Like the tag above says, the future is undecided. 
> 
> Enjoy this nonetheless.

Spartacus frowned as he watched the sun slowly fade yet again upon the hills in the distance. He was given word by Agron and Nasir that they would return to his camp before they sailed from Pompeii. But they were due to arrive days ago. Now the men and women who stood beside him grew restless and impatient. They had all begun to fear the worse; that if Agron and Nasir had yet to show up by now, they were dead.

And so was their child.

Spartacus felt his shoulders sag with worry. He stood port side along the ship that would ferry his people to Thrace, but his eyes stood fixed upon the surrounding woods waiting for any movement to stir from within them. Beside him were his trusted generals Crixus and Gannicus, and by their sides were their companions Naevia and Saxa. They had listened intently when he voiced his concerns about his missing friends and had all shared in his worriment. However, they all knew as well as the Thracian that the longer they remained in one place, the easier it was for the Romans to trace their whereabouts. They could not take that chance, not when their numbers had swelled with women, elderly, and small children—the very building blocks of their revolution. If the Romans found them, they would not hesitate to massacre them all, wiping from existence any and everyone they branded as _fugitivus_. No one wanted that to happen and with every passing day they tried to inflict that facet of reality upon their leader.

But today was their breaking point. Today their faith had run out. And Gannicus was the first to speak. “Spartacus, we must leave this place. I bare no ill will of the boy and his Syrian lover but too much time has passed. We present ourselves as bountiful feast for ravenous Roman vultures who will devour us without moment’s hesitation. I understand presented principle of leaving no man behind, but you have yet hundreds to give thought too—hundreds who depend on the man named Spartacus.”

Crixus stepped forward, resting a hand on the Thracian’s shoulder. “I stand with Gannicus. I bear no love for Agron, and it was due only to kindness for Nasir and their child that I agreed to remain as long as we have. But how long shall we pause? Time wanes before the moment of discovery. May the gods prevent such occurrence from existence.” He raised his open hands between them. “Your hard labor has brought forth too bountiful a fruit as sweet reward  to the many to have it ripped from deserved hands in an untimely nature. Look around Spartacus and see truth. Do voiced words provide any clarity within mind?”

Spartacus looked into his general’s chestnut eyes and nodded. “They do. Such words have been spoken many a time in my own mind, though perhaps stubbornness has restrained tongue from giving such thoughts life.” He cast his glance around to the vast amount of people surrounding him—the people whose life he held in his tenure. “I do not know why I pause,” he whispered.

“You pause because Agron is dear friend—because Nasir is dear friend. That is what friends do. I bear belief in my heart that you would do the same for anyone of us if we fell in similar position,” said Naevia, her words soft yet drifting clearly to those within her company. She spared a glance to her loving husband with desperation in her eyes. Nasir and Agron were her friends and she cared for them deeply. She would fight for them for as long as she was able. “If we can give them but a day longer,” she began again, only to be cut off by Gannicus’ belligerent woman.

“No. We have waited too fucking long. I say we move from Pompeii as planned. Let Agron and his whore figure out path for themselves,” growled Saxa.

Spartacus was quick to retort. “Agron is our fellow brother and a good man. So is Nasir. Do not smear their names with unwarranted filth and disregard.”

 “I know tensions rise high but find way to control your woman. We broke words in civility, let them end in equal manner,” said Crixus with a hard stare to Saxa. She merely hissed and stormed off, pushing Gannicus out of her way when she realized that he would say nothing to defend her.

Crixus turned once more to Spartacus. “I will instruct the others to board the ship if you so grant it.”

Spartacus gave a reluctant nod. “Yes. Let us see our people to safety.”

Yet as he turned with the others to make way towards the ship, he heard someone weakly call out to him from a distance. Emerging from a dense thicket was Agron, limping as fast as he could manage to meet them. Spartacus and company rushed towards the young gladiator, managing to reach him in time before he collapsed to the cold, hard ground. Agron’s entire being was awash with injuries. His right eye was swollen shut. There was a deep gash the length of Spartacus’ thumb on his forehead. There were various cuts and bruises on his arms and thighs and he favored his left side, gasping in pain whenever jostled too much.

Spartacus held Agron’s head in his hand, slapping him gently to keep his brother conscious. “Agron what happened? Where is Nasir?”

Agron’s response was weak. “I could not stop them Spartacus. I was not strong enough. I was not strong enough,” he mumbled repeatedly.

Spartacus smacked him again to regain focus. “Who Agron, who?”

“The Romans,” he spat.  “They took him, my beloved. They have Nasir and they have Kuno.”

Spartacus frowned. “Who is Kuno?”

Agron, through the pain and delirium managed to smile. “He is my son.”

“Your son?” asked Naevia in minor delight.

“Yes. Nasir gave life to our son en route. We tried to press forward but the labor had progressed too far. We had little choice but to make camp. I scouted ahead and found a small, uninhabited shack near a house  not too far from the main road. Cursed with his parent’s timing, Kuno made his way into the world, but not without attracting attentions from the occupant in the nearby house. She claimed to be a midwife of the Republic who had turned against current Roman beliefs in favor of a quiet life. She offered much needed assistance and shelter until Nasir regained enough strength fit for travel. The fool was I to believe such false words. I held her akin to Lucius, believing that not all born of the Republic bore the brand of pure evil on their soul. She slipped away under the cover of nightfall and brought with her upon return dozens of Roman serpents. They came down swiftly upon me and I could do no more than watch as they dragged Nasir and my son away. It was a battle I could not win,” wheezed Agron.

Spartacus rumbled in empathy. He knew more than anyone what if felt like to watch helplessly as the Romans dragged his beloved away.

“You did well enough brother,” said Gannicus.

“But what motive resided in the woman’s mind? Was this a result of personal intention?”

Agron coughed and a little trickle of blood appeared in the corner of his mouth. “No, it was little more than a trap. Since we escaped Batiatus’ ludus, many Romans have taken to dwelling in small houses near roads and villages, hoping to capture anyone who cohorts with Spartacus. Such was revealed to me during the attack.”

Crixus held a small skin of water to Agron’s lips, encouraging him to drink. “Why were you not sent to the afterlife brother,” the Gaul asked.

“The answer is simple,” he replied, motioning for the others to help him up. He stood on shaky legs but in the end and with Gannicus’ support Agron was able to keep upright. “I am to bear message to the mighty killer of Theokcoles—to the bringer of rain and of our liberation. If we do not offer surrender to Rome in three days, then upon sunset on the third say my beloved and our son’s life will become forfeit.”

 Spartacus raised an eyebrow at the level of contempt directed to him in Agron’s voice but he did not address it. He could not, especially since he would do the same if roles were reversed. Instead, he asked; “And which Roman stands behind such command?”

They had only just taken care of Gaius Claudius Glaber less than a year prior, slaughtering many of his supporters along the way. That was not to say that a few could not have survived and rallied together to hunt Spartacus down. Such had been the story he was well accustomed too. Someone always wanted him dead it seemed. Nevertheless, from the look in Agron’s eye, the man behind this injustice was a new force to be reckoned with—a new evil expelled from the cunt of Mother Rome.  And all Agron had to do was breathe the name for Spartacus to grasp the true direness of their new fate.

“Marcus Licinius Crassus.”

 

FIN


End file.
